don't.

it is.
it's hard.
it's so hard.

hostage me.

the tale of two cities never
knew obliteration like this.
we're talking population control.
we're talking martial law.
we're talking body count.

the scribes, the playwrights,
the painters, all debutantes,
reduced to memory.

blank media for years,
as unemployed muse
cartels roam the
gypsy paths.

surrounded by mountains; claustrophobic

i speak to her pseudonym in the third person.

this, from the 609.

five lines.

it's not a medication but a bellowing of the organs of your rhythmics.

i don't believe in the dead, but these are premonitions. that's right. i said fucking phantoms. haunting the inner workings of anticipation, the eyes, the smile.

notebook pages lines the roof of my mouth, waiting to be tasted. the things i ingest are aimed at your skin. i want to be heard in your footsteps. i want to feel you coming. i want to feel you coming.

bass heavy, like the ocean. a lung so deep, we're talking creatures. inhabitants.

the waiting at transit length is benign. a clairvoyant mentioned charmed existence, but i told her i was just a vagabond. my coating of arms, a penciled diagram on the blue lines. my reputation, a line in legendary sand.

X: THIS is a fucking opportunity to make a difference.
X: you don't NEED him.
X: this whole blocking/silence/crying thing... it's an opportunity.
O: im just scared i guess
O: that nothing else is going to come around
X: of life, of the world without THAT.
X: god.
O: and im not good at being single really
X: please.
X: give me.. BLESS me with a world without that.
O: i just dont think anyone else will be like genuinely interested in me
O: and i feel like if someone does come along - tha tim going to scare them away
X: DO YOU REALLY THINK HE IS?!
O::-X: just answer it.
X: if not answer it.
X: think about it.
O: i am thinking about it
O: its all ive been thinking about
X: it doesn't seem like it.
X: like, do you see what you're fighting to stay in! ahh!
O: i know
O: and i know its a shitty excuse
O: but like i said, im scared
O: im not as social as i used to be
X: this kid better have a dick like a sledgehammer.
O: we dont have sex anymore

oh my.
if there's anything that could ever defeat me, it's unworthy self doubt, and the death of a romance.

a locale.

giulia has this picture up on her myspace.
i asked her where it is so i can go visit it.
i'm pretty glad that it exists.
come with me.

"how fast do feet grow, my sister?"

Her: So, am I a messenger now, or something?
Him: Well, I mean, you could tell me where you live, so I could just punch it through your window.





just to set the record straight,
last night doesn't count.

a craning.

and then, just frames.
if we're quiet and shut the door,
they won't know.

so quiet, we'll scream in nerve endings.
quiet like window panes.

leaving fingerprints on the skin loving your ribcage.
leaving mouthprints on where your throat meets your vessel.
teethmarks.

so if it's dark and if we don't tell a soul,
they won't figure us out.
bring me in with you;
guide me at arm's length.
when we meet at the eyes again,
that's when it starts.
a soft and expectant sonata,
this will be our masterpiece.
breathe me in with all of you.

quiet like archways.

i want to see the shapes our clothes make on your floor.
dunes, i think.
mountain ranges, i think.
camouflage.

elbows and knees dividing the friction into angles. a craning neck and a smoothed out back. reaching out for you and me and everything and more. so much. handfuls, and nails. play the passion in my ears. don't stop.



and then, just frames.

a date.

i was on myspace looking through some bands that i hadn't heard about in a while. the hope conspiracy and ratatat just came out with records last week, and i was curious if i should buy them or not. i then went onto iron & wine's to see what/if he was doing anything [plus, i found out he was from miami] and then went to modest mouse's site to see if something was going down with them, and saw that they were playing some situation in miami on november 11th. i thought it was a joke. so i checked it out, and it said they were playing with gnarls barkley. this had to be a joke.

clicks later, this is no fucking joke.

the artists that i'm psyched about performing?
duran duran, tiesto, common, daft punk, gnarls barkley, modest mouse, thievery corporation.

the rest?
jesus. i'm about to spend a good chunk of my day looking through what these people are about. i'm psyched. they have a player on the site which i hope includes at least one gateway song for each. most of them seem to be solo artists named by their name which means DJs and such. i have NO problem with that

example:
george acosta. hirofumi ohta.

also performing:
haiku.

if you're not down with beat, electronic, or dance music, understandably, you're not going to be into this sort've event. but for a full day from eleven AM until midnight, this will be a day where i think being in miami will completely pay off.
.
-
it's been raining for three days. our lake is exceeding its threshold. even the ducks don't know what to do. i went to the management office this morning. i walked through puddles. huge ones. shin deep ones. it's a huge difference between me and the people i hangout with on a regular basis. the people at home. some of the things that i do, if it wasn't for me knowing them, those people would probably be pointing and laughing. i figure that might give them some insight on different people, but it doesn't.

i do, i worry about being too much of a child for this world, this life. but i really don't know how else to enjoy it. i don't take a lot out of technological toys. i'm not going to have a huge home one day to outlandishly illustrate within. it's always been the little things. maybe i've been instilled with too much of an appreciation for them, that it's hard for me to see outside of them.

i do, i think about the gene of the traveller. they're out there. they're everywhere. what is it that makes people want to be constantly on the move, and on the go. what makes people want to take these places down as words, and photographs, and sketches? i don't come from a horrible place. in fact, i don't think i could have had a better upbringing, or environment to come up in.

there are few things that make me more excited than the prospects and possibilities of who and what lies beyond these borders and these shores. i'm being completely honest with you. to think that somewhere, in london, there's a kid who loves a band as much as i love fairweather. the fact that, quite possibly, i've never heard of this band. i want to meet this guy, have him need to make me a mix CD. to have that feeling that it won't be enough for me to hear it on my own. i want to see his face, and his fingers while he's telling me how this band made his last few months.

this, over and over and over.
-
it's still raining.



-

why i shouldn't work at a record store.

que shiraz.

i think i finished what i've been working on since january seventeenth. it took four and a half months to materialize the emotions, words, and results which would then become the final product. i put it down for two or three months, and recently picked it back up again, and finished it. it needed to be extracted from me like venom.

i sweat this shit out like heroine.

i wonder what she would say if she read it. undoubtedly, it would come off as unfair. it's just my side. and i never saw her side of things, except when they were my side of things, maybe. it's so much behind me that i can't even remember. it's the saddest shit in the world, because i can't even place a moment in time where we were really in a bad way. the fact that it takes so little to qualify The End. i had to cauterize everything that was there. all the nerve endings, and all the memory-transit sealed shut.

i never dream.
but i did last night.

i went to a pub. it was mid day, all the sun coming through the tinted windows as filtered lighting. there was a host stand near the end of the bar where jimmy stood with a guy who had a short clippered blond head of hair. there was a girl there, too, but she was just a mental decoration that i must have thrown in for an ethereal form of feng shui. i asked jimmy if i could see the test that tina took. the other guy, i'm thinking he felt like a brother, or a best friend, started foaming something through grinded teeth. jimmy started writing on a piece of business paper, handed it to me, and then said, "i'm sorry, is it just me, or did i just steal your girlfriend?"

you'd think i'd be a puddle on the floor at this point. but instead, i laughed, said, "ha, shut the fuck up. let me just check this out." like i knew this guy. he hands me a piece of paper with jumbled words on it, and i don't even know where to start. the first one says, "L S T H". there are four more puzzles on the paper, each one adding an additional word to the mix. i just said, "aaight."

we ended up continuing to talk for a little while, at one point, even going so far as him showing me a voice mail that he received in november from her. it was just the sound of a voice, because in the dream, i wasn't about to craft a full voicemail in a voice i haven't really heard in months. so instead, i was just given the vibe. it was more or less the kind of message you leave someone when you're overwhelmed with emotion when you see/hear something that reminds you of them. the kind that you keep hidden away so well, that you don't even know it's there.

yeah, in my dream, maybe in real life, she left him that kind of message.
i was fine with it.

maybe it's just time.
maybe it's what i wrote.
something culled this dream out of me.
but that dream was the nail in the coffin.

it's over.

another dream i had before that
was protecting a military general's
reputation in the face of a wave of undead.